


Until It's Just As Tiny Or Important As You Like

by mysticanni



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Magic, Child Roger Taylor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, M/M, Seizures, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26584951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticanni/pseuds/mysticanni
Summary: Crystal and Roger are avoiding talking about the fact they shared a drunken kiss when a spell accidentally turns Roger into a small child.Failure to reverse the spell could result in Roger's death.  Will Crystal lose him forever?
Relationships: Chris "Crystal" Taylor/Roger Taylor
Comments: 10
Kudos: 25





	Until It's Just As Tiny Or Important As You Like

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from 'The Other End of the Telescope' by Til Tuesday
> 
> This uses most of 'I Am Old But Still A Child' because I am lazy

When Crystal had applied for the job with Magical Solutions he had hoped he would be apprenticed to Brian May so he could learn and specialise in the sort of magic required at major events – making sure it didn’t rain on anyone’s parade or carrying out spells to locate people in the rubble of buildings destroyed by earthquakes – or, even better, predicting and preventing an earthquake – the sort of magic people paid attention to – the sort of magic people paid well for.

The series of increasingly difficult magical tests he had undergone before he had been offered a position had apparently indicated that his natural magical abilities made him suited to a career in healing magic. Anyone could heal, Crystal had thought crossly. Everyone’s grandmother could whip up a remedy for a sore throat or arthritic aches and pains. No one paid serious money for healing potions.

He had skirted around this topic at the interview, saying he was surprised that Magical Solutions had a healing department. There were several large specialist organisations that offered healing magic, after all, and countless small firms.

The interviewer, Mr Beach, had smiled at him. “I can assure you, Mr Taylor, our healing department does not churn out standard potions and creams for standard ailments. If you would prefer to work for one of the other specialist firms then, of course, you are free to do so.” He had surveyed Crystal across the desk. Crystal had shifted uncomfortably, feeling hot and uncomfortable in his rarely worn suit. “Perhaps you did not see yourself as a healer?”

Crystal had nodded eagerly. “I’ve always felt my talents were more suited to, say, weather manipulation.”

Mr Beach had smiled again. “Everyone wants Brian’s job,” he murmured. “The magical tests were very clear about your aptitudes Mr Taylor and we would be delighted to offer you a role here in our healing department but if you feel your skills would be better used elsewhere...”

Crystal had been both astonished that he was being offered a job and miserable that it was not the one he had envisaged. He tried to arrange his face into some kind of normal human expression as he was fairly certain he was simply gawping at Mr Beach like some kind of village idiot.

“As I think you are aware we have four main departments,” Mr Beach told him, “Healing, headed by another Mr Taylor – Problem-Solving, headed by Mr May – Glamour and Illusion, headed by Mr Mercury and Domestic Solutions, headed by Mr Deacon. Most of our applicants want to work with Mr May or Mr Mercury as those disciplines are high-profile and regarded as lucrative. However, I would argue that it takes more magical skill to completely cure someone of an illness that should have killed them as Mr Taylor recently did. I think, if you decide to take the job, you might be surprised at how much people will pay for even a little extra time with a loved one.”

So Crystal had taken the job, thinking that he could perhaps transfer to Problem-Solving at a later date. 

Magical Solutions worked out of an old castle. There were workshops in one wing of the castle and all employees were offered accommodation in the other wing. And so Crystal moved into a little apartment over one weekend and on a Monday morning walked along the passageway that linked the accommodation and working sides of the building.

There was a tower at each corner of the working side of the building. Crystal entered a vast open plan square room first of all which had doors in each corner leading to each department’s tower. The towers were different shapes – circular for Healing, octagonal for Problem-Solving, triangular for Glamour and Illusion and square for Domestic Solutions. 

The open space Crystal entered had five workbenches – one in the centre with Mr Beach behind it and the other four near the entrances to the towers. The workbench nearest the door to the circular tower was bare and Crystal assumed that was where he would be working. Mr Beach came to greet him. “Good morning, Mr Taylor,” he greeted him.

“Morning, Mr Beach,” Crystal replied.

“Please, call me Miami,” Mr Beach said. “My name’s actually Jim but Freddie – Mr Mercury – calls me Miami and it seems to have stuck. Let me introduce you to everyone.”

Mr May’s assistant was called Ratty, Mr Mercury’s assistant was called Phoebe and Mr Deacon’s assistant was called Trip. “And I help out where I can,” Miami told him. Since they all seemed to use their nicknames Crystal explained that everyone called him Crystal.

The floor below had storage rooms and a staff room with ancient comfortable chairs and a small kitchen area. “The department heads all seem to appear at the same time for tea-breaks,” Miami told him, “and we all stop when they do. We’ll add you to the rota for buying milk and tea-bags and biscuits and so on.”

The bottom floor held the office Crystal had been interviewed in. There was a small reception area with a cheerful receptionist called Peaches. “Most people call or email with their queries,” Miami said, “but some people come to see us in person. Peaches deals with contracts and paperwork too.”

They trooped back up to the top floor. Miami explained that there were little spiral staircases that led up to the tower rooms each of the heads of department occupied. He led Crystal to the door to the circular tower and opened it. Crystal followed Miami up the well worn narrow stone staircase to a round room at the top.

The room had metal work benches fitted in a half-moon curve around the circular wall and a padded bench was curved around the wall opposite. Various test tubes and flasks were bubbling on top of the work benches and there were little baskets with herbs and powders here and there. A man was snoozing on the padded bench. He grunted and sat up blinking dazedly through a tangle of long blond hair. “Miami,” he said in greeting, sounding delighted, “And a friend – how nice.”

“Roger, this is Crystal, your new assistant. Crystal, this is Mr Roger Taylor, the head of our healing department.”

They both murmured ‘pleased to meet you’. Miami said, “Well, I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” 

Crystal stared after his retreating back, suddenly feeling a little lost. The man, Roger, swung himself off the bench and stood up, stretching, his shirt riding up to show his stomach. Crystal was surprised to suddenly find he was being enthusiastically hugged. “A whole assistant, just for me,” Roger marvelled, “how lovely!”

“Haven’t you had an assistant before, then?” Crystal wondered. 

Roger shook his head, pushing his hair back from his face. “No one wants to work with me,” he told Crystal cheerfully, “Everyone thinks healing is boring.” He grinned at Crystal. “I expect you think that too, but a job’s a job, right?”

Crystal wondered a little about the supposed aptitude tests and the fact that apparently only Roger needed an assistant. He thought Miami might be a sneaky manipulative bastard. He considered lying to Roger but decided it was best that Roger knew what he was dealing with from the start. “Yeah,” he agreed, “I think I was hoodwinked by Miami.”

Roger laughed. “He usually implies there is a chance you could be working for Brian.” He squeezed Crystal’s shoulder. “Trust me, you wouldn’t want to work for Brian – he’d drive you crazy. You’ll have much more fun with me!” He slid his hand into Crystal’s and pulled him towards the staircase, announcing, “Time for a tea-break!”

As Roger towed him out of the door to their tower the other tower doors opened too and their occupants emerged. Brian May turned out to be tall and very thin with a mop of dark curly hair. His attention seemed to be divided between the here-and-now and something happening inside his mind. He greeted Crystal warmly but vaguely. John Deacon shook Crystal’s hand and welcomed him politely. Freddie Mercury threw his arms around Crystal much as Roger had done. “At last!” he cried, “Someone to look after Roggie!”

*

In his first few weeks on the job Crystal learned that Brian often absent-mindedly left flames unattended causing several small fires. He left dangerous potions and ingredients lying about when he wandered off to check notes or consult books and forgot about them. Roger had to treat his hands for burns when he lifted a flask not realising it would still be hot. Crystal would not have admitted it to anyone but he was glad he was not working for Brian, brilliant though he undoubtedly was.

John could be short-tempered and sharp tongued if things were not going well. Trip often worked long hours – staying on well after working hours were officially over – to assist John. Trip said he didn’t mind – that he was learning a lot from John – and while Crystal thought John was an amazing magician he was glad he wasn’t working for John either. 

Freddie was very creative. He would perch on the edge of Phoebe’s desk talking excitedly about his latest ideas. Phoebe carried out a lot of the detailed work required to realise these ideas. Crystal supposed this was what an assistant was for and Phoebe said he enjoyed the work but Crystal was glad he wasn’t working for Freddie either.

Working for Roger felt more like working with Roger. Roger would ask for Crystal’s opinions and always listened as if he was genuinely interested in what Crystal had to say even although Crystal felt disgracefully ignorant a lot of the time.

They were given requests – some of them from rich and famous people – and Roger would consider the best way to fulfil these. Crystal was impressed that he did not merely produce a standard sleeping draught for the child of a noble who was suffering from night-terrors. He responded to the original request asking for further details of the problem and carefully concocted a potion that should stop the night-terrors.

Roger was funny and seemed light-hearted but he took his work seriously and worked carefully and methodically. Crystal was glad he had been chosen to work with Roger.

*

The wing of the castle they lived in had a communal dining hall, a gym and a swimming pool. There was very little reason to leave the castle and they tended to eat together in the evening then head to a nearby pub.

Roger knew the best hangover remedies.

Crystal thought that he was spending too much time with the same set of people and that was why his thoughts were full of Roger. That was what he told himself. Roger was his boss. It would be very inappropriate of him to imagine what Roger might look like topless. Those tantalising glimpses of his stomach were to blame for that, of course, every time Roger’s shirt rode up when he stretched his arms above his head. It would be inappropriate to wonder what he might look like if he peeled off his sinfully tight jeans.

He had been working for Roger for a month when he grudgingly admitted to himself that he found his boss very attractive. He could not act on the feelings, of course, because Roger was his boss and any kind of relationship other than a strictly professional working one would be a recipe for disaster.

He tried to cut back on socialising with the others, claiming he needed early nights or time to himself and making himself sad little solitary meals in his little apartment. If he did go out he tried to spend more time with Brian or John or Miami or Freddie and less time with Roger. Spending time with Roger could be dangerous. 

*

Crystal had been working for Magical Solutions for almost six months when they all went to the pub to celebrate Peaches’ birthday. After a few drinks Crystal had gone outside to smoke a cigarette and found Roger standing next to him. “Did I do something wrong?” Roger asked.

“Wrong?” Crystal echoed, “No?” he added uncertainly, unsure what Roger meant.

“I thought maybe you were avoiding me,” Roger explained. 

Oh. That. Yes. Crystal opened his mouth although he was not sure what he was about to say but found he did not have to say anything as Roger was suddenly kissing him. Crystal started to kiss him back hungrily then realised what he was doing and pushed Roger away. Roger stumbled backwards. “No,” Crystal gasped, “No. You’re my boss. I can’t.” He turned and fled. He heard Roger call his name but he did not turn back. 

*

Unusually, Roger was already in his tower when Crystal arrived for work the following morning. He had left a note with instructions on Crystal’s work bench which was also unlike him. Crystal was glad, however, as it meant he did not have to speak to Roger. He hoped their working relationship was not about to become awkward.

Crystal had just settled down to prepare the tonic Roger had scrawled the ingredients for when John stormed out of his tower and brandished a piece of paper towards Miami. “This is completely unethical!” he shouted. “Not to mention impossible! It breaks all natural laws!”

The other magicians appeared at the doors of their towers, as if summoned either by the prospect of drama or perhaps simply because they always made weirdly synchronised appearances. Brian had cleared his throat, “A lot of what I do breaks natural laws,” he pointed out.

“Some stupid bitch wants to me to concoct a potion to make them eternally youthful!” John yelled. “I can’t believe this reached my desk, Miami! Why weren’t they sent the standard request rejection response?”

“They were,” Miami responded calmly. “That is the amended request which asks if it is possible to make them look a few years younger. I think, perhaps, you only have the second page there.”

“That’s Freddie’s department,” John huffed, “he can create a glamour that makes them look years younger.”

“That will only last for a few hours,” Miami pointed out, “What they are asking for is the reversal of some signs of ageing.” 

John glanced towards Roger. “Weren’t you doing research into that?” he called across.

Roger nodded. “Yes,” he agreed, “and it looks possible from a physical point of view but there would have to be a lifestyle adjustment involved which is more your department. I can show you what I’ve worked on from a physical and emotional point of view.”

“A juicy problem to get your teeth into,” Miami murmured as John headed towards Roger’s tower. 

*

All of the magicians became involved in the quest to make someone look several years younger and the assistants were left to carry out more routine tasks while they attempted to solve the problem. Roger peered at the latest version of the potion on Trip’s work bench. “I think it’s too strong,” he murmured, “I would suggest...”

What he would have suggested was lost as one of Freddie’s cats – Crystal thought it was Delilah -jumped onto the bench and tipped over the glass holding the potion. The potion splashed on to Roger’s hand. 

“Oops!” John exclaimed, staring at the small child standing where Roger had been. The small child had Roger’s big blue eyes and blond locks and was wearing a reduced in size version of Roger’s clothes. “Roger?” John asked. The small child nodded and shoved his thumb into his mouth. “Definitely too strong, then,” John murmured.

“How old are you Roggie?” Brian asked, sounding worried. 

The small boy held up three fingers. “Aw, he’s just so cute!” Freddie cooed then bellowed across the room, “Crystal!”

*

Crystal surveyed the little version of Roger who was gazing up at him with wide innocent blue eyes. He folded his arms across his chest. “My job description does not include looking after an infant,” he huffed. Roger held his arms up towards Crystal looking hopeful. “Up?” Roger asked uncertainly. Crystal scooped him onto his hip. The child nestled against him with a contented sigh.

Miami cleared his throat. “Actually, your contract does stipulate that you will look after Roger if he has any unexpected magical needs. Besides, he seems to like you.”

Crystal sighed. “How long will it take to reverse the spell?” 

Brian scratched his head. “Um...quite a while...? I’d suggest taking Roger to your quarters and...” Brian waved his hand around with a vague expression on his face, “Doing whatever one does with a small child.” 

Freddie patted Roger’s head. “Be a good boy for uncle Crystal, darling, and we’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Tomorrow? Crystal sighed again. Roger removed his thumb from his mouth with a pop and said, “Bye, bye, Fweddie.”

“Oh he’s just too sweet for words!” Freddie gasped. 

*

Crystal’s mind was reeling as he carried Roger along the corridor to his apartment. He had often imagined having his arms full of Roger but never like this. Although this was undeniably a much smaller version of Roger he found that he was able to think of them as two separate people. He reflected that was probably good for his sanity.

Crystal’s rooms were devoid of entertainment for a small boy. Crystal set Roger on his knee and bounced him up and down pretending to be a horse which made Roger giggle. “Hungwy,” Roger informed him after a while.

Crystal made baked beans on cheese on toast and was then dismayed by the amount of bean sauce Roger managed to get in his hair and on his face and clothes. “You need a bath messy changeling,” he sighed. 

While he bathed Roger he sang a song he recalled his mother singing to him as a child. Roger sang along in a sweet voice. Once Roger was dry and in a ridiculously large t-shirt he sat him on his knee and began to brush his wet tangled hair which made Roger’s lower lip wobble and tears fill his eyes. “Sorry, changeling,” Crystal murmured. He braided the child’s hair and told Roger how good he’d been. Roger looked heart-meltingly happy at this praise.

“Stowy?” Roger requested, slipping his thumb back into his mouth. 

Crystal settled the child in his bed and murmured a story he had liked as a child. Roger fell asleep nestled against him, long eyelashes fanning his cheeks. “G’night, changeling,” Crystal whispered. 

He awakened to adult Roger blinking at him, looking amused. “You tell a very good bedtime story,” he told Crystal gravely, his blue eyes full of mischief. 

“Fuck off,” Crystal muttered. 

“No breakfast?” Roger pouted. Then he peeked under the bedcovers and flushed. “Um...This t-shirt isn’t covering as much as it did last night...I’m going to need clothes, Crys.”

Crystal sighed and scrambled out of bed. “I’ll find you something of mine...” he mumbled. He felt another layer of awkwardness cementing itself onto their relationship and sighed again. 

*

The others looked as if they had worked through the night when Roger and Crystal entered the work room to bleary-eyed stares. “Roger!” Freddie exclaimed, “You’re big again!”

Roger looked puzzled for a moment then alarmed. “You didn’t change me back?” he screeched. 

“No,” Brian said, frowning, “we didn’t change you back.” He added with clearly forced cheer, “But we will figure it out.”

“Well,” John muttered, “we’ll try.” He stared at Roger. “What were you doing when you changed back?”

“Sleeping,” Roger told him. “Maybe the potion only lasts this long,” he added hopefully.

“You know that’s unlikely,” John said gently. 

Roger sighed. Crystal looked at each magician in turn seeing nothing but trepidation on their faces. “Wait, are you saying he’s likely to turn into a kid again?”

“There are a few possibilities,” John told him, “Roger might remain in his adult form which would be ideal but sadly I think that’s one of the least likely outcomes. Roger might veer unexpectedly between being a child and being an adult until we can find a solution.”

Crystal frowned. “What if...?”

“What if we don’t find a solution?” John asked. Crystal nodded.

“We will, dear, don’t worry,” Freddie said.

“We can’t actually promise that, Freddie,” Brian warned them. 

“If we don’t find a solution then...Oh...” John broke off, staring at Roger.

Crystal turned to Roger too already knowing he was going to have to look down. Little Roger looked up at him gave him a sweet smile and shoved his thumb in his mouth.

“If we don’t find a solution then there are several possibilities,” John continued. “The transformations may eventually stop of their own accord once the potion wears off. Roger may become trapped in one form or another. Hopefully if that happens he would be an adult but there is a chance that he might remain a child forever. Finally, Roger’s body might become exhausted with the constant transformations and he might die.”

“We will find a solution!” Freddie cried. “Poor little darling,” he added, glancing at Roger, “just as well he won’t recall this when he’s an adult again.”

Crystal opened his mouth to inform them that actually Roger could remember what had happened when he was a child but he thought better of it and shut his mouth again. “If he got stuck in one form...”

“It’s interesting,” Brian said, “We think if he gets stuck as a child he’ll be stuck at that age forever. If he gets stuck as an adult then we also suspect he might not age – which, of course, would kind of be what we were aiming for.”

“From a legal point of view you have six months to figure it out, gentlemen,” Miami told them, “After that, if Roger is still alive,” his voice cracked slightly, “then Roger will be removed to The Institute.”

“What’s The Institute?” Crystal asked. 

“It is where people who were damaged in magical accidents end up,” Freddie gulped. He glared at Miami. “I am not letting that happen to Roger!”

Crystal thought that he had no intention of letting that happen to Roger either. He looked down at Roger who was sitting cross-legged on the floor sucking his thumb and petting one of Freddie’s cats. “We’d better get to work then,” he said. 

*

Brian looked dubiously at Roger. “I’m not sure we can have a child in the work room,” he said.

“We can’t,” Miami agreed. “We’d be breaking various regulations.”

Freddie scooped him Roger up and sat him on his knee. “Aren’t you just the cutest thing ever?” he cooed at Roger, who scowled back. 

“If the wind changes your face will stay that way, Rog,” Brian warned him.

Everyone turned to look at Crystal, apart from Roger who was reaching towards a flask containing a pink sparkly potion on Freddie’s workbench. “Freddie,” Crystal said sharply, nodding towards the flask.

“This is why you’re such an excellent nanny, dear,” Freddie beamed at him, pushing the flask out of reach of Roger’s grasping little hand.

“Spawkly,” Roger pouted.

“Yes, but it isn’t for little boys,” Freddie told him.

“I’m not a nanny,” Crystal protested.

“We’d be very grateful if you would look after Roger today, at least,” Miami said smoothly. 

Crystal sighed. “I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“Not really, no,” Miami agreed. “But we do appreciate it.”

Crystal held out his arms towards Roger. “Will you come with me, changeling?” he asked - because fuck the lot of them if Roger was not happy with this arrangement.

“Uncle Cwystal,” Roger said delightedly, reaching towards him.

Crystal scooped him off Freddie’s lap and onto his hip. “C’m’ on then, changeling.”

*

He carried Roger down to reception. “Oh!” Peaches exclaimed, emerging from behind her desk, “I’d heard Roger had been turned into a child,” she said. “Hey baby boy,” she cooed. 

“Pwetty,” Roger said happily, reaching out towards her long purple hair.

“Thank you, baby boy!” Peaches eyed Crystal suspiciously. “I’m not looking after him,” she warned him.

“I’m not asking you to!” Crystal protested, “I just wondered if you had any of those little packs you keep for kids...”

“Oh! Yes, of course,” Peaches returned behind the desk and rummaged in a drawer, triumphantly producing a couple of little cellophane wrapped packs containing little colouring books, coloured pencils and crayons. “Here you are,” she said, offering them to Crystal. “Something for you to do, sweetheart,” she told Roger.

*

With Roger sitting happily colouring in at the kitchen table Crystal turned his back on him to make coffee. When he turned back Roger had slipped off the chair and was drawing little figures on the wall next to the fridge. “We don’t draw on the walls, changeling,” he said, aiming for a tone of calm authority and fearing he was screeching.

“Sowwy, uncle Cwystal,” Roger said sweetly.

“Just...If you could stick to drawing on your colouring books...” Crystal instructed him. He rubbed the heel of his hand over his forehead and thought this was going to be a long day.

“I dwaw us,” Roger told him proudly.

“Us?” Crystal peered at the stick figures on the wall by the fridge. “That’s lovely, Rog, but not on the wall, okay? You’re not a prehistoric cave-painter.”

“What’s pwehistic?” Roger asked. 

Crystal wondered if he could make coffee without taking his eyes off Roger. He sighed again. 

*

Roger had gone to sleep next to Crystal as a child and woken up as an adult again. “If this is going to keep happening we’ll really have to think about clothes,” he muttered.

Crystal had thought that was the least of their worries but wondered if perhaps Roger did not recall what had been said the day before. Maybe his recollection of what had happened when he had been a child the first time had been an exception. Then, however, Roger said, in a small voice, “How long do you think I’ve got?”

Crystal considered pretending he didn’t know what Roger meant but then he looked at Roger’s face and knew he couldn’t. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “What kind of toll do you think the changes are taking on your body?”

Roger had shrugged, “I don’t feel any different, really.”

“Hopefully that means you’ve got a long time, then,” Crystal said. He had scrambled out of bed. “I’ll find you some clothes.”

“Thank you,” Roger had mumbled, adding, “I’m sorry about your kitchen wall.”

“I expect it’ll wipe off,” Crystal muttered. 

*

It was Crystal’s day off and he was cleaning his apartment – although for reasons he didn’t want to fully explain to himself he had not tried to wipe Roger’s stick figure drawing off the wall - when he heard wailing in the corridor. It sounded like a child. He felt uneasily certain that it was Roger.

The wailing grew louder and there was a knock on his door.

When he opened it Brian, Freddie and John were outside. Freddie was carrying Roger who was little again and howling.

They all looked dishevelled. They all seemed to have been spattered with yellow and red paint which Roger appeared to have in his hair as well as on his face and clothing. Everyone’s clothing was ripped and Roger’s robes looked very ragged. There was a smell of scorched fabric and singed hair.

Roger was wriggling in Freddie’s arms and crying loudly, gulping for breath. Crystal’s instinctive reaction was to reach for him but he forced himself to keep his hands by his sides. 

“Uh,” Brian mumbled, “we know it’s your day off but...um...Roger’s little again and he needs you.”

Crystal raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have to care for him on my day off,” he stated. 

Roger twisted in Freddie’s arms and reached out towards Crystal. “Uncle Cwystal!” he wailed. 

“He keeps asking for you, dear,” Freddie told Crystal, apparently sensing weakness.

Crystal heaved a huge internal sigh and plucked Roger out of Freddie’s arms, settling him on his hip. Roger immediately stopped crying, pressing his face against Crystal’s shoulder. Crystal had to admit that was gratifying. “What have you done to him?” he asked suspiciously.

John sheepishly held out a little jar of ointment. “Erm...this is for burns. He might need it. He wouldn’t let us examine him.”

Crystal held Roger a little tighter. “Are you hurt, little changeling?” he murmured.

Roger looked up at him solemnly. “Huwts,” he confirmed. He slid his thumb into his mouth and dropped his head back onto Crystal’s shoulder.

“Well,” Freddie said brightly, “Roggie, darling, we’ll see you when you’re big again! Be good for Crystal!” 

They hurried off, ignoring Crystal’s pleas for them to tell him what had happened to Roger. “Wankers,” he muttered as he closed the door. 

“Ankuws,” Roger agreed. 

Crystal sighed. 

*

Roger looked comically shocked as Crystal deposited him fully clothed in a bath filled with tepid water. “If you’ve got burns then you need to soak,” Crystal told him, beginning to peel the child’s soggy clothes off. “I hope you didn’t like these threads, changeling, because they’re only fit for the bin.” 

Roger glared at him, his big blue eyes full of tears. “Ow,” he whimpered as Crystal gently tugged his top off revealing a nasty burn mark on his arm. “Fwom the fiwe,” Roger explained. 

“The fire?” Crystal echoed. “What was on fire, baby boy?” 

“Me,” Roger snuffled. “Sleeve,” he added.

“You were on fire, changeling? Your sleeve caught fire?” Crystal clarified and Roger nodded. Crystal was going to kill Brian, Freddie and John next time he saw them. “Okay, little changeling, can you stay in the water for me? It’ll help, I promise. And I’ve got some nice cream here that will help too.”

He washed the paint from Roger’s hands and face and then washed his hair. It took a while to get Roger clean and dry with the burn ointment applied to his wounds and his hair brushed and braided – a process which Crystal knew from previous experience brought tears.

He was pleased to see the burn ointment magically cleared up the angry marks on Roger’s skin so he was surprised when Roger began to cry again. Crystal dressed Roger in one of his t-shirts and settled him on his lap, rocking him gently. “Does it hurt, changeling?” he asked.

Roger shook his head. “Uncle Cwystal cwoss wiv me!” he wept.

“No, baby boy, uncle Crystal is not cross with you, I promise,” Crystal had the now familiar feeling of being completely out of his depth. “Why do you think I’m cross?” 

Roger mumbled something indistinct. Crystal very gently asked him to repeat it. “Uncle Cwystal didn’ do the bath song,” Roger explained, sounding slightly sulky now. 

When Roger had stayed with him before Crystal had sung a song he remembered from his own childhood when he had bathed Roger. He held Roger a little closer and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’m not cross with you,” he repeated, “I just...I forgot...Uncle Crystal is silly and he forgot to sing the bath song.” He rubbed his forehead feeling a headache swooping in. “We could sing the bath song now,” he suggested. 

Roger looked scandalised. “Can’t sing the bath song out of the bath,” Roger declared disapprovingly. 

Crystal nodded, “Silly uncle Crystal,” he muttered.

Roger nodded, “Silly,” he confirmed, brightening a little. 

*

“Were you painting something with the others?” Crystal wondered as he dropped Roger’s paint-splashed clothes in the bin.

Roger nodded, looking up at Crystal, thumb firmly in his mouth. “A pictuw of us,” he informed Crystal. He looked sad. “Delilah was helping but the paint got spilled,” he revealed. “No one wanted me,” he added sadly. 

Ah. Delilah was one of Freddie’s numerous cats. That presumably explained the paint splatters. “No one wanted you?” Crystal echoed. 

“You not there,” Roger told him, sounding accusatory.

“I’m sorry, changeling,” Crystal said, feeling guilty although he was perfectly entitled to his day off. 

“Evewyone busy,” Roger continued. “I was big then not.” He aimed an injured look at Crystal. “Mi call,” he said.

“Miami? Called me?” Crystal clarified. He glanced around wondering where he had left his phone. “Ah, okay, sorry changeling, my phone was on silent.”

“Me banned,” Roger told him sounding troubled.

“You’re banned?” Crystal repeated. He considered this. “From the workshop?” he guessed.

Roger nodded. “Didn’t mean to be bad,” he told Crystal, his lower lip quivering.

“I know, darling. No need to worry.” He supposed that was why the regulations Miami had mentioned the previous day existed. The attempt to keep child Roger in the work room had evidently been a catastrophic failure for everyone. 

He surveyed Roger who looked back solemnly, Crystal’s t-shirt hanging off his little body, thumb jammed in his mouth. How was he supposed to entertain a three year old? “Well, little changeling, today is cleaning day and I guess I just got me a helper,” he said, trying to inject more enthusiasm into his voice than he felt. 

*

Crystal considered what tasks he could safely accomplish with Roger. Water was best avoided, he thought. He decided to sweep the floors with Roger balancing on the broom. Roger seemed to like this game – giggling merrily. It meant Crystal had to put more effort in to push the broom but he thought it was worth it.

Once they had swept the floors Crystal fetched the feather duster and tickled Roger with it until he was screaming with laughter. They did a little bit of dusting too and then Crystal lay on his newly swept floor and allowed Roger some revenge with the feather duster – the child scrambled over him dusting him, shrieking with delight.

They cleaned the mirrors next. Crystal rubbed glass cleaner on to the mirrors and Roger was wide eyed as his reflection vanished. He held Roger up so he could wipe the glass clean and slowly reveal their faces again – Crystal made faces and Roger copied him.

Crystal suspected Roger might find making the bed more boring so he sang to him while they accomplished that task hoping this might make up for the lack of a bath time song. Roger joined in with the song in his sweet little voice.

Crystal made them fish finger sandwiches resulting in tomato sauce all over Roger and Crystal gave him a quick wash and changed him into another one of his t-shirts. Roger had a point, he thought – if he was going to turn into a child often then they may have to invest in some clothing that would fit him. 

Roger’s clothes expanded and contracted with him but only what he was wearing at the time. There must be a set of little clothes somewhere – the ones Roger was wearing the first time he became little which Crystal had removed to wash – but they were not in Crystal’s quarters – Roger had taken them with him, laughing at how small they looked, as a souvenir he had said. Roger had borrowed some of Crystal’s clothes to go home in that morning and now that Crystal thought about it his clothing had not been returned to him. Really, if Crystal was going to be stuck with little Roger all the time – which looked likely – then it would be practical to have clothing for both big Roger and little Roger here. He wondered if he should get some books or toys for the boy too.

He gathered Roger onto his lap, tucking a blanket around them both. Roger looked up at him hopefully. “Stowy time uncle Cwystal?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Crystal pressed a kiss to Roger’s head. “It’s story time.” 

Before he could embark on a story he suddenly found his lap full of grown-up Roger. “Oh!” Roger gasped, burying his face in Crystal’s shoulder much as little Roger did when he was upset.

“Hey, changeling,” Crystal said, gently moving his hand in soothing circles on Roger’s back. “What’s up?” Crystal wondered. Roger mumbled something that was muffled by Crystal’s shoulder but it seemed to be about his lack of clothing beneath the blanket. The t-shirt had re-sized with him, of course. Crystal frowned, unsure about why this would be more troubling than Roger waking up half-naked in Crystal’s bed. “I’ve seen it all before, mate,” he reminded Roger, “but we’ll get you some clothes, of course.” 

*

When Crystal wandered into the workshop the following morning bearing a tray of coffee and doughnuts he was met by Brian who looked very serious. “Ah-good, you’re here at last, Crystal,” Brian said and Crystal thought that he was half an hour early, thanks very much and had brought sustenance. “We’re having a meeting – it’s good that you’re here.” 

The meeting was in John’s tower, which was also the largest of the magician’s rooms. Only the four magicians, Miami and Crystal seemed to be attending the meeting so Crystal distributed coffee and doughnuts amongst the other assistants then followed Brian into the office with the rest of the goodies. 

John was sitting behind a desk which Freddie was sitting on. “Oh, excellent, Crystal, you brought coffee you utter gem!” Freddie said happily.

Roger was standing by the window looking grave. He gave Crystal a little smile when he entered then returned to staring moodily at the mist swirling around the tower. 

Crystal had set the tray of coffee and doughnuts on the desk. Brian grabbed a coffee and a doughnut and coiled himself into a squashy armchair in the corner. Crystal took his own coffee and perched next to Roger on the broad window-sill. This earned him another small smile.

Roger turned around to face into the room. “We need to talk about what happens when I...when I’m small,” he stated.

Crystal nodded. They did need to talk about that. He bit into a doughnut. He realised they were all staring at him. He sipped his coffee. “What?” he mumbled through a delicious mouthful of food.

Roger cleared his throat. “If you’re willing then I’d like to be...looked after...by you, Crystal, when I’m small.”

Crystal swallowed. “I thought we’d already established I have to do that?” he pointed out, “It’s in my contract. And I don’t appear to be able to get out of it on my day off either,” he added. An odd look Crystal couldn’t place crossed Roger’s face and he thought of Roger’s strange reaction when he had become big again the day before.

“I think what Roger means,” John began carefully, “is that if you are willing, Crystal, he would like you to be...Well, to be his primary caregiver when he is little.”

Roger nodded. “All the time,” he said.

Crystal shrugged. “Yeah, sure, I thought I was doing that anyway,” he said. Roger had that strange expression on his face again and it was making Crystal feel uneasy. 

“We are hopeful that we should have found a cure within a month,” John told him, “but for that month we would require you to be on duty all the time. You would be paid accordingly, of course.”

“What?” Crystal puzzled. 

Roger sighed. “You’d have to be constantly with me,” he muttered, “in case I suddenly turn into a little kid.” He gnawed on his lower lip and Crystal could see the three year old in him. “I-um-I wondered, actually if...I thought it might be more convenient if I...If I moved in with you?”

Crystal nodded, that made sense. It would solve at least one aspect of the clothing issue. “Yeah, that’s fine.” He did not miss the relieved look on their faces. He took the opportunity to make a request of his own, “I was thinking we need to get you some clothes for when you’re little. Maybe some books and toys too.” 

“Oh, that’s a very good idea!” Freddie beamed. “I’ll come shopping with you! We’ll get you the cutest little outfits Roggie!” 

“It’s only for a month,” John reminded them with a frown.

“He will need clothes,” Crystal said firmly, “and it would be useful to be able to entertain him while he is little.” He looked at each of them in turn, “You recall the state he got into when you were looking after him?” They each looked suitably chastened.

“Yes, well,” Miami cleared his throat, “while that sounds practical there will have to be a budget, of course.”

“Speaking of which,” Crystal said, “I want to be compensated for any damage to my belongings or residence while he is living with me.” He glanced at Roger, “No matter what age he is when the damage occurs.” He grinned at Roger’s outraged expression. 

“That seems fair,” Brian nodded which earned him a glare from John.

John looked like he was about to protest so Crystal added, “Again, I would remind you of what happened when you were caring for him.” He wasn’t actually entirely sure what had happened but it seemed to have shocked them enough to agree to most things.

John sighed. “Very well,” he agreed. 

*

Everyone decided they wanted to shop for supplies for baby Roger. Crystal’s head was splitting before they had left the castle. He moved close to Roger. “I know you remember what happened when you were little once you’re an adult again,” he noted, “but do you remember that you’ve been an adult when you change into a child?”

Roger considered this. “Kind of,” he said. “When I first change then I know I am different.”

Crystal nodded. “If that happens while we are out then I want you to come to me and take my hand, okay?”

Roger smiled. “I will if I remember,” he agreed. 

*

Brian ran a hand through his curls and gulped. “He doesn’t seem to be anywhere in the shop,” he said.

Crystal felt sick. He was about to berate Freddie for letting go of Roger’s hand when he realised Freddie was crying. Shouting at Freddie was not going to help them find Roger.

When Roger had suddenly changed into a child again he had obediently appeared at Crystal’s feet, holding up his arms and demanding to be lifted, “Up, uncle Cwystal!”

Crystal should have kept him safely on his hip. He had given Roger to Freddie so he could look at a picture book and of course Roger had then demanded to be set down. 

And now he had toddled off somewhere on his own.

“I knew this was a mistake,” John muttered. 

They all turned round as they heard a crash from somewhere at the back of the store. They looked at each other and then turned and headed speedily in that direction. 

Roger was sitting placidly sucking his thumb amongst what had once been a neatly stacked pyramid of various games and puzzles and was now a demolished heap of various games and puzzles. Crystal plucked him from the wreckage and put him back where he belonged on Crystal’s hip. Roger blinked innocently at him. John and Freddie were talking calmly to a cross store assistant and offering to pay for any damage. Crystal bristled as he heard the shop assistant ask if the child was stupid. “He’s very bright for his age, actually!” he seethed. John frowned at him and Brian led Crystal and Roger away from the store assistant.

“Did you want one of these, little changeling?” Crystal wondered, waving a hand at the heap of games and toys. 

Roger nodded solemnly and pointed to a box which looked like it contained a wooden puzzle where a little ball ran through a maze. Crystal retrieved one of these puzzles. “This one, changeling?” he checked and Roger nodded again.

“You can’t buy him a treat after he caused this carnage!” Brian gasped. 

“If you don’t want to add this to the things we’ve budgeted for then I’ll buy it myself for him,” Crystal said. “He’s three,” he added, “He just couldn’t reach it.”

*

He only regretted it slightly when he had to assemble the various bits of the puzzle for Roger so he could place the little ball at the start and watch it roll along a twisting and turning route to the end. It seemed to be an endless source of fascination, especially when Crystal helped him alter the puzzle to change the route the little ball rolled along. “You like this one, huh, changeling?” he murmured. Roger nodded happily, his thumb lodged in his mouth.

Roger had not yet officially moved in but Crystal had instructed Freddie to fetch an adult outfit for Roger for when he was himself again. “We’re a lot more prepared this time, little changeling,” he told Roger. “We’re getting good at this, aren’t we?”

He wished he hadn’t said that a little later when the doorbell rang. Crystal went to answer it and that was all the time it took for Roger to try out the little frog bath toy they had bought him in the bathroom sink causing it to overflow.

“Evewything’s wetted,” Roger had informed him cheerfully when his panicked search of the apartment ended in the bathroom and the devastation was revealed.

“Yeah, I see that,” Crystal sighed. He forced himself to smile at Roger. “It’s almost as wet as being in the bath, little changeling, so we can sing the bath song while we mop everything up.”

He extracted a promise from Roger not to touch any taps or handles or press any buttons anywhere in the apartment unless Crystal was with him. He considered this and amended this request so that Roger promised not to touch any taps or buttons or any other handles anywhere at all. “Yes uncle Cwystal,” Roger nodded. 

He took Roger outside for some fresh air although he was a little nervous about doing so mindful of how spectacularly little time seemed to be required for Roger to get into trouble. He thought that as long as they remained in the castle grounds it should be okay. He held Roger’s hand tightly. They should have bought a ball, or something, he thought. 

Roger was looking up in the sky, his little head tipped back and his increasingly messy braid hanging down his back. Crystal followed his gaze and realised a large bird of prey was soaring overhead. Crystal pulled Roger a little closer wondering if the bird was large enough to prey on a scrawny three year old. “Big biwdie,” Roger gasped in awe.

“Yeah, that’s a very big birdie, Roggie,” Crystal agreed. He wondered suddenly if they should have got a kite. Would Roger like to fly a kite? He had fond memories of his father flying a kite with him. They should definitely do that. 

He steered Roger towards the walled garden feeling an enclosed space would be safest. Roger ran around the paths, seemingly for the joy of running. Crystal felt exhausted watching him. Then Roger’s foot caught on an uneven paving slab and he went flying, landing in a crumpled heap. Crystal ran over to him, crouching next to him. Roger looked at him with a shocked expression and then said, “My knee huwts uncle Cwystal.” His lip wobbled and he began to sob. 

“Aw, there now, changeling, you’re okay,” Crystal lifted Roger onto his now familiar perch on Crystal’s hip and hurried back towards the castle. “I’ve got some nice cream that will heal that.”

Once they were back in his apartment he set Roger on the kitchen table while he gathered supplies for the serious business of tending to Roger’s wound. Roger watched with wide tearful eyes and a runny nose. His thumb was firmly in his mouth. Crystal wondered at what age that would have an impact on Roger’s teeth before he remembered that Roger was likely to only be little for a matter of hours and it really didn’t matter if he sucked his thumb. With his preparations made Crystal said, “Right then, changeling, let’s get your trousers down and see the damage.” He turned around and found adult Roger sitting on the table smiling wickedly. 

*

There were, of course, things they should talk about while Roger was an adult - The Kiss and Crystal’s reaction to it. The predicament Roger was in. The possibility that Roger might die or be carted off to some shadowy place called The Institute.

So far their conversations while Roger was an adult had centred on what Roger was or wasn’t wearing and what he would like for breakfast. There had been some work conversations too but they had furiously and successfully avoided discussing The Major Issues. 

When Roger had proposed moving in with Crystal he had merely thought that, yes - that was the most practical way of dealing with the situation. As Roger actually physically moved in it belatedly occurred to Crystal that his crush was about to be with him all the time. Admittedly some of the time Roger wouldn’t exactly be Roger – Crystal still regarded child Roger as almost a different person somehow – Roger had told them he had consulted his mother about his actual childhood and he had not sucked his thumb or had trouble saying the letter ‘r’ so in many ways Crystal thought he was different – a magical child and not really Roger at all - but nevertheless the potential for awkwardness seemed remarkably high. 

No one had commented on the fact that Crystal’s apartment only had one bedroom. Crystal reflected that it was possible the others didn’t know but Roger certainly did.

Crystal had made room in his wardrobe and chest of drawers for an assortment of child-sized and adult clothes of Roger’s. “Thank you,” Roger murmured as he hung up some shirts. “I’m so grateful you agreed to do this.”

Crystal reflected silently that he hadn’t felt he had much choice in the matter. He cleared his throat. “I know we’ve shared the bed before but I can sleep on the sofa if it bothers you?”

Roger looked at him as if he was mad. “Of course it doesn’t bother me,” he said. He frowned. “Does it bother you?” he asked. Crystal shook his head and did not miss the look of relief on Roger’s face. “Good,” Roger said, “because so far I’ve woken up when I’ve changed and I think it would be too scary if I was on my own.”

And so Crystal grew used to having little Roger peacefully curled up next to him, his long eyelashes fanning his cheeks. They should have bought a cuddly toy for him, Crystal thought. He looked like he ought to be clutching a teddy bear to his little chest. 

Roger usually went to bed as a child and awakened as an adult – sometimes in re-sized pyjamas intended for a child which looked comical on an adult. “I wish I’d stayed an adult when we were buying this stuff,” Roger sometimes muttered. Crystal didn’t think it would have helped – none of the other adults present had really thought about how the clothes they were buying for child Roger were likely to look if he they were what he was wearing when he became an adult again. 

On nights when Roger was an adult he curled up a polite distance away from Crystal and Crystal wished adult Roger would snuggle against him as he did when he was a child. Crystal would not have admitted this to anyone and barely acknowledged it himself. 

He had thought waking up next to adult Roger might feel awkward but in fact it felt completely natural as if they were meant to be together. 

And still they didn’t talk. 

*

Crystal discovered that adult Roger was monosyllabic until after his first cup of coffee in the morning. He liked raspberry jam on his toast but was not keen on strawberry. He wandered around the apartment barefoot, saying he liked the way the wooden floors and the soft rugs felt. He left scarves and belts and ties draped over door handles and the backs of chairs. He asked Crystal things about himself and listened carefully to the answers. 

At work Roger supervised Crystal in making up various standard potions and ointments for ailments a child might get. He told Crystal this would be good training for him. They took the results back to the apartment and stored them in what Crystal began to think of as the emergency cupboard. He had not expected this serious forward planning side to Roger although he supposed it was self preservation in a way – Roger would hardly want to be seriously hurt or ill in child form. 

John asked Crystal to note at what times of day or night Roger turned into little Roger. It normally happened once in every twenty-four hour period but the times varied. Occasionally Roger transformed more than once a day and Crystal thought this happened if Roger had been upset by something but he felt rather shy about voicing this observation to either Roger or John. 

Roger was his boss – his boss who had kissed him his mind pointed out - and although he now knew him much better Crystal still felt slightly awkward around him when they were not in a work setting. Roger usually seemed perfectly at ease with Crystal no matter what age he was although there had been a few occasions where he had appeared shy and embarrassed when he turned back into an adult. Crystal had not determined a pattern to this.

*

“Fuwwy,” Roger declared, looking suspiciously at the peach he was holding in his small hand.

“It’s a lovely peach, Roggie,” Crystal told him in a bright tone of voice. He loathed peaches but adult Roger had selected one for his packed lunch box earlier that day. Now, just as they were taking a break for lunch in the staff room Roger had become a child again. Apparently little Roger was less keen on peaches than his adult self. 

Roger eyed the crisp apple slices on Crystal’s plate. “You have fuwwy thing,” he dictated, “me have apple.” He suddenly looked worried. “Evewyone look,” he confided. 

Crystal looked up and sighed when he realised that the other occupants of the room were all watching in amusement to see if Crystal would surrender his lunch to the little blond tyrant. “Fine,” he sighed, “here have the apple...”

Roger beamed at him. “You have fuwwy thing,” he repeated, offering Crystal the peach.

Crystal debated saying he didn’t want the furry thing but Roger seemed very keen for him to take it and he had a suspicion refusing it might end in tears so he took it from Roger’s slightly sticky hand and said, “Thanks, changeling.”

Roger began to munch the apple. “Fuwwy thing no good?” he asked as Crystal left the peach untouched. He looked troubled.

“You’ll have to eat it now, dear,” Freddie told him with evident amusement.

Crystal sighed again and bit into the peach. “Yum, it’s a lovely peach,” he said. Roger made a little surprised noise as he transformed back into an adult. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” Crystal grumbled. 

“Why are you eating my peach?” Roger asked with a grin. “I didn’t think you liked them?”

“You know very well why, you little shit,” Crystal growled, glaring at him. 

*

As time went on Roger’s transformations into child Roger grew less frequent. There was a retirement dinner for one of the apartment block caretakers being held in the dining hall which they decided to risk attending as Roger had not transformed for the previous two days so Crystal was dismayed when the seat Roger was occupying suddenly looked empty – only a tiny curve of blond hair was visible over the table top. Crystal shot out of his own seat and moved as discreetly as he could to Roger’s chair, arriving just as Roger succeeded in squirming into a kneeling position on the seat and his small hand reached for the wine goblet. 

Crystal cast a rueful glance back towards his barely touched plate of food and pried the wine goblet out of Roger’s little hand. He knocked back the contents himself thinking he would probably need it then scooped Roger onto his hip and proceeded swiftly out of the hall. Roger said, “Night, night,” to Freddie and Phoebe who had been sitting next to Roger as Crystal hurried him away.

The hall door had barely closed behind them when Roger looked up at Crystal with a troubled expression. “Feel icky,” he announced just before he vomited copiously over both of them.

Crystal briefly mourned the destruction of his one decent suit. He sighed. “Come on, changeling, let’s get you home,” he murmured.

Roger was sick again before they reached Crystal’s apartment. He was worryingly quiet. Crystal sat him in the bath and experienced a lurch of horror as the child began to shake violently. Crystal climbed into the bath too and held Roger’s thrashing head on his lap as the little boy suffered through this seizure. Crystal shakily assured Roger that everything was going to be okay and that Roger was going to be fine. He thought people could usually still hear during fits.

Alcohol poisoning he thought. Adult Roger probably hadn’t consumed all that much alcohol but child Roger should not have consumed any at all. Crystal thought desperately about the potions and powders in the emergency cupboard and sagged with relief when he recalled making one to, as Roger had cheerfully said, “Zap any poison out of the system!” 

He pressed a kiss to the top of Roger’s head. “You’re going to be just fine, love,” he assured him. He suddenly found his arms full of adult Roger.

Roger made a distressed noise and Crystal repeated the assurance that all would be well. Roger was suddenly a child again. Crystal frowned. This was new. He assumed the traumatic experience was causing the age transformation magic to go haywire.

Crystal scrambled out of the bath and lifted Roger into his arms. He carried the child through to the kitchen where the emergency cupboard was. Roger suddenly became much larger and heavier in his arms – an adult once more. His eyes met Crystal’s and were full of panic. “It’s okay, love,” Crystal murmured, “I’m going to fix it, I promise.”

He set Roger on a chair and Roger whimpered as he vomited down his front. “We’ll get you all sorted out in a minute,” Crystal told him and suddenly found he was addressing the three year old version of Roger again. 

Crystal read the label on the bottle carefully and poured the recommended dosage into a measuring cup which he held to Roger’s lips. “Uncle Crystal needs you to drink all of this, okay?”

Roger nodded. He was crying now – tears streaming down his flushed face in a silent flood. He swallowed the medicine obediently, making a face and very briefly turning into adult Roger for a second before changing back into a child.

Crystal waited anxiously, unsure how the potion worked and what he should expect. He should have pressed Roger for more information than ‘zaps it out’ he thought angrily. Roger made a surprised little sound and looked up at Crystal, his wide eyes brimming with tears. Crystal was suddenly startled to find he was looking into adult Roger’s eyes. Adult Roger shook his head and gasped, “Another dose, Crys,” and then he was three again.

Crystal hesitated. The instructions on the bottle were very clear. But Roger was the expert on healing potions. He poured another dose of the medicine and coaxed his reluctant three year-old to swallow it again. “It yucky,” little Roger pouted. Crystal was heartened by receiving a response – this was the most talkative Roger had been since they had left the hall.

“It’s good for you,” Crystal assured him. Roger scowled at him but drank the potion anyway.

His little body bulged alarmingly, his stomach bloating and his cheeks swelling then he was suddenly very sick again. “Fuck! Bloody fucking hell!” Crystal gasped. Then Roger was an adult again, back to his usual size. “Roger...” Crystal croaked, his own eyes wet with tears. 

Roger managed a weak smile before suddenly changing back into a child. Crystal sniffed unhappily. “Uncle Cwystal,” Roger squeaked, sounding worried, “I messy,” he informed Crystal, “I sowwy,” he added.

Crystal lifted him off the chair and held him close sobbing into Roger’s shoulder. “No need to be sorry, little changeling,” he whispered unsteadily. “Now, let’s get you sorted out.”

*

Crystal very briefly contemplated trying to salvage their suits before dropping them into a bin-bag and tying the top tightly. It had taken a while to get them both clean and dry. He was hungry and exhausted.

Roger had remained little since receiving his second dose of the potion and he had stuck close to Crystal’s side like a little shadow since they had emerged from the bathroom. Crystal heated soup and held Roger on his lap taking one spoonful then feeding Roger the next spoonful. He encouraged Roger to keep sipping water. He rested his cheek on the top of Roger’s head. “I thought I’d lost you, little changeling,” he murmured tearfully.

Roger shook his head, dislodging Crystal. “Not lost,” he said, slipping his thumb into his mouth and mumbling, “Silly uncle Cwystal,” around it.

“Yeah,” Crystal agreed, “silly me.” 

*

He was alone in the bed the following morning and experienced a little jolt of terror. He was just about to leap out of bed and search for Roger when the bedroom door swung open and adult Roger appeared carrying a tray with tea and toast on it. “Brought you breakfast,” Roger mumbled, blushing. 

“Thanks,” Crystal settled back on his pillows, “I didn’t know it was my birthday,” he joked. 

“It’s a thank you,” Roger said. His face was scarlet with embarrassment. He placed the tray gently on Crystal’s lap and perched on the edge of the bed. “I’m so sorry about last night,” he choked out. 

“There’s no need to apologise,” Crystal told him, “It was hardly your fault and if it hadn’t been for you we wouldn’t have had the antidote.”

Roger wrapped both arms around himself. He stood up. “It’s very kind of you to say so. I-um-I understand if you want me to leave...”

“Why would I want you to leave?” Crystal wondered. “Honestly, Rog, it’s fine.”

Roger nodded. He looked close to tears and hurried out of the room without saying anything else. Crystal frowned wondering if he ought to go after him. He decided to give him some space. 

*

“You poor thing,” Freddie laughed as Crystal and Roger entered the workshop, “having to deal with drunken little Roger!”

Crystal felt his hands curl into fists. “He had a fucking seizure!” he seethed, “He could have fucking died!”

Freddie looked shocked. “I’m so sorry, darling, I...I didn’t think!”

“None of us did,” John agreed, also looking stricken. “We would never have left you alone with him otherwise.”

“Crystal saved my life,” Roger said in a small voice.

John curved his arm around Roger’s shoulders. “We hope to have a potion that will cure you soon,” he told Roger. 

“He could’ve died last night,” Crystal growled, glaring at everyone in the room in turn, other than Roger. “This has gone on long enough – whatever you’re doing you need to do it fucking faster.”

“Everyone’s trying their best,” Miami assured him in a soothing tone.

Roger looked unhappy, “Crystal shouldn’t have to put up with me for a second longer, especially after last night. Perhaps someone else could take over?” He looked around him rather wildly, “How about you, Freddie?” 

“Me, dear?” Freddie looked slightly panicky.

“You’re perfectly welcome to keep staying with me,” Crystal snapped feeling a little surge of irritation. Where had Roger got the idea that he didn’t want him?

Freddie looked relieved. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it? How long for, John, dear?” 

“At least another couple of weeks,” John said. “Possibly even another month.” He scratched his head. “I’m sorry,” he added. 

Roger looked miserable and then, suddenly, he was small again. He indicated that he wanted Crystal to lift him and once he was safely on Crystal’s hip he pressed his face against Crystal’s shoulder as he always did when tired or upset. Crystal smoothed his hair. He reflected guiltily that he would miss little Roger once they found a cure. They had to find a cure.

As if reading his mind, Brian said, “I hope you haven’t become too attached to the three year old version of Rog, Crystal?”

Freddie gave Crystal a knowing look, “It’s how attached you’ve become to the adult version I’m interested in!” he said. 

“What do you mean?” Brian and John asked in unison.

Crystal felt his cheeks heat up as Freddie said, “Oh, don’t tell me you two haven’t noticed how Crystal looks at Roger! He obviously adores him!” 

“Can we not talk about this just now please?” Crystal mumbled, very conscious of the blue eyes searching his face.

“Now is the perfect time to talk about it, dear, while the object of your affections isn’t here!” Freddie trilled. 

“He remembers what happened when he was a child once he turns back into an adult, Freddie,” Crystal hissed.

“Oh! Oops, sorry! I didn’t realise,” Freddie said. “Oh, the poor darling – so he remembers being unwell last night?”

Crystal nodded, gently rubbing Roger’s back. Roger made a contented sound around the thumb in his mouth.

“But...Wait...You’ve fallen in love with Roger?” Brian queried, “While you’ve been caring for him as a child?”

“No!” Crystal bristled. “What are you suggesting? That I’m some kind of paedophile?” He glared at Brian. He flushed. “I’vealwayshadfeelingsforhim,” he mumbled, “As an adult,” he clarified. “And can we please drop this,” he hissed, glancing again at the child in his arms. 

Brian held his hands up in a placatory gesture. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you and... Of course we can leave it... Your feelings for Roger are none of our business.” 

John nodded. “Quite,” he agreed. 

*

Crystal bought a kite but they had not yet flown it. “Shall we go and fly the kite, little changeling?” he wondered. 

Roger nodded enthusiastically. “Kite,” he agreed. 

Crystal had not seen much of his father and the flying a kite with him was a cherished memory. He knew he was probably expecting far too much of doing the same thing with this child who was not really a child and certainly not his son but he had a confused notion of wanting to create a nice memory of this strange time for Roger. 

So of course the kite got hopelessly tangled in a tree almost instantly. His father had apparently made kite flying look far simpler than it was in reality. Crystal instructed Roger to sit under the tree and not move while he retrieved the kite.

He pulled himself into the tree, climbing up the solid wide branches easily the leaves whispering around him, until he reached the kite. The frame was splintered and twisted and the string snapped as he tugged it free. Feeling he had wrecked something worth much more than a child’s toy he scrambled back down and found adult Roger sitting where he had left the smaller version. 

Roger jumped up and traced a finger over the broken kite. “Oh,” his blue eyes were sympathetic, “it won’t fly now,” he noted. 

Crystal shook his head, feeling suspiciously close to tears. He stared at Roger as he moved closer to him, his fingers plucking a leaf from Crystal’s hair. “I know it’s a very odd situation and I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but...” Roger pressed his lips against Crystal’s. 

Crystal returned the kiss, pulling Roger closer with his free hand. Their eyes met as they broke apart. “I’ve loved you from the moment you cleared your throat and asked me to explain why I was adding salt to a sweet dreams potion thus saving me from making a possibly career ending error,” Roger told him.

Crystal laughed. “Uh... I’ve loved you since you realised I had a hangover my first week on the job and did my work as well as yours.”

Roger kissed him again. “I should have told you much sooner,” he sighed, “I’ve wasted so much time and now our time together will be reduced every time I turn into a little kid.” 

Crystal dropped the battered kite on the ground and folded Roger into a hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier either. I’m sorry about how I reacted when you kissed me before. It felt difficult with you being my boss.” He kissed Roger again, his hand straying downwards to cup Roger’s bottom which was encased in deliciously tight jeans. He sighed, “And now we have to wait until the child-Roger issue is resolved.” He smoothed Roger’s hair back from his puzzled face. “I don’t want to be kissing you and suddenly find I’m inappropriately kissing a three year old.”

“Oh!” Roger looked appalled. “Damn,” he said sadly.

*

Roger refused wine with dinner. “I’m not going to touch alcohol again until I am certain I’m not about to turn into a child,” he told Crystal with a shudder. A little blush crept across his cheeks. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Crystal reminded him. “We all thought you’d stopped changing.” 

Roger sighed. “I wish I had. I wish I had now.” 

*

Freddie looked at them expectantly the next morning. “Do you have news for me, darling?” he asked Roger. 

Roger placed his lips close to Freddie’s ear and murmured, “I am almost certain you did know that when I am in child form I can remember everything.”

Freddie gasped dramatically. “Such lies, Roggie!” he cried. He flung an arm around Roger. “So, my dear, how’s your love life?”

“Terrible,” Roger sighed. “In theory I have a lovely new boyfriend but we can’t do any nice adult things in case I unexpectedly become a child.”

“Oh,” Freddie frowned, “yes, I can see why that would be an issue, dear. Still, it’s only going to be for another couple of weeks, isn’t it?”

“Let’s hope so,” Roger muttered. 

*

Crystal held his breath as Roger – very dramatically – gulped down the potion with a theatrical shudder. Crystal looked at him expectantly but nothing happened. 

“If the potion has counteracted the age reduction magic successfully then we should be able to tell with a blood test,” John announced. Roger obediently held out his hand and allowed John to jab a pin into his finger. Drops of scarlet blood dripped into a little dish. Roger returned to Crystal’s side holding a handkerchief to his fingertip and they watched as John scattered an orange powder over the blood. There was a whoosh of green flame and Roger laughed.

“No trace of the magic is left in your blood,” John announced happily.

Roger was already half way out of the room. “We’re taking the rest of the day off,” he called back over his shoulder, “and possibly tomorrow too - in fact, probably the rest of the week.”


End file.
